


Windows

by TaleWorthTelling



Series: Sam Wilson Explains It All (Or He's Very Successful At Pretending To) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 23:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4157025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWorthTelling/pseuds/TaleWorthTelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve stood by the window, one forearm leaning up against the frame, fingers curled loosely into his palm over his head. He stared out over the city through tinted glass from a hundred stories up. Sam watched the muscles of his back move and bunch slightly as he shifted his weight in little, mindless motions.</p>
<p>It was the perfect kind of dramatic moment that Steve would love to immortalize in one of his sketchbooks, all sleek lines and sharp angles and dense shadows. Sam wasn’t an artist, though, so he went with another method he knew of dealing with these situations. His success rate was high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Windows

Steve stood by the window, one forearm leaning up against the frame, fingers curled loosely into his palm over his head. He stared out over the city through tinted glass from a hundred stories up. Sam watched the muscles of his back move and bunch slightly as he shifted his weight in little, mindless motions.

 

It was the perfect kind of dramatic moment that Steve would love to immortalize in one of his sketchbooks, all sleek lines and sharp angles and dense shadows. Sam wasn’t an artist, though, so he went with another method he knew of dealing with these situations. His success rate was high.

 

He walked up behind him, purposely making noise out of courtesy even though he’d yet to be able to sneak up on Steve even once. “Good thing no one can see you this high up, standing here almost naked at five-thirty in the morning. I mean, I like to share, but not with tabloids.”

 

Steve didn’t turn around, but his answering smile was reflected in the window. “I actually think people are more prudish now than when I went under, you know. I certainly didn’t give a hoot.”

 

“Really?”

 

“A body’s a body,” Steve continued, briefly glancing down in suspicion at Sam’s wandering fingers trailing up and down the side of his shorts. “Between the neighborhood, my art classes, and some choice dates Bucky brought home … well, I’d like to see you blush after that.”

 

“Mhmm.” Sam nodded solemnly and inched his hand farther.

 

“‘Sides,” he teased, “a guy’s entitled to be naturally curious. You kids these days didn’t invent it.”

 

Sam pressed his palm against him, making Steve wriggle a little.

 

“Sam, come on, this is—”

 

“It’s okay. No one can see high up and those windows are something else.”

 

Steve was still tense, so Sam dropped a kiss between his restlessly shifting shoulder blades.

 

“It’s funny,” he murmured, licking his lips to draw them wetly up the knobs of Steve’s spine. “You can see them, but they can’t see you. Normally it’s the other way around.”

 

“You’re right,” Steve breathed out, “it’s hilarious.”

 

A shudder ran through him when Sam scraped his teeth lightly across his shoulder. He slipped one hand down Steve’s side, tickling down his ribs, skimming along his waist, until he reached his hipbones and pressed his fingertips into the ridges. He pulled slightly, Steve swaying back into him, and when he let go there were four little white spots where his fingers had claimed before hot blood rushed back into place beneath his skin.

 

Steve drew a sharp breath in through his nose and allowed his eyes to drift closed. There. That was what Sam wanted to see.

 

He raised his palm to lick it slick, all function and no form, but as he reached his face, Steve turned his head, eyes still heavily-lidded, to suck Sam’s waiting fingers into his mouth.

 

Well, then.

 

Sam enjoyed the show for a while longer than he strictly needed to, basking in the pressure of Steve’s talented tongue on the sensitive spots between his fingers, the seeping heat of Steve’s mouth and the pooling warmth in his gut, the wet kiss pressed into his palm as he dragged his hand away. He pulled Steve into a kiss, maybe a little roughly, and pushed his damp hand into Steve’s shorts.

 

Steve groaned. His head dropped forward toward his chest as if a weight had been lifted. He spread his legs a little more, let more weight fall onto his supporting arm.

 

Sam slipped his other arm around Steve’s waist and tightened it firmly, felt the taut muscles jump, and pulled back fiercely until Steve could feel him, hard and waiting. His knuckles brushed Steve’s belly whenever he twisted his hand; Steve hissed softly every time. Sam had skills – he’d be the first to say it – but he was pretty sure that a simple handjob wasn’t what had Steve so hot and bothered. There was something to be said for standing on top of the world and gazing down with your dick pretty and proud, and whatever that feeling was, Sam wanted a piece next time. Who knew Steve Rogers was an exhibitionist?

 

Sam kept kissing Steve’s upper back, nipping then soothing every inch with his tongue, rubbing his hip with the arm still slung around his amazingly narrow waist. When his fingers relaxed to trail lower, past Steve’s erection, to squeeze, Steve’s free hand flew up to slam his palm heavily into the window. His fingers spread and clenched, leaving little smudges on the pristine reinforced glass to spell out his mounting tension.

 

He pulled back to rest his forehead between Steve’s shoulders for a brief moment, heat rising off his skin to the sweat on Sam’s temples.

 

Sam ground harder into Steve, insistent undulations of his hips that only rocked Steve’s powerful body because he wanted it to, and Sam bit his lip with the heady knowledge. He switched to lavishing attention on Steve’s neck, practically presented to him in supplication, long lines and smooth skin. He kissed hard now, sucking bruises, raising his bracing arm to scratch his nails down Steve’s scalp and tug his short hair to pull his head back. His mouth was already open on a noise Sam could barely hear but felt instead.

 

It didn’t take much longer when Sam sped up his hand and gripped harder, Steve’s head back on his shoulder and the jut of his throat glistening from Sam’s mouth. He breathed in and out, in and out, his ribs rising away from Sam and falling back into him each time, until he swallowed loudly and turned around.

 

“I just put these underwear on an hour ago,” he said, voice low and eyes bright. “They were clean.”

 

They shared a look down at the stain blooming out over the front of his Falcon ( **TM** ) shorts. Then Sam looked at his sticky hand.

 

“Well, that doesn’t exactly look like a complaint to me, unless this is something like tea leaf reading and I should be interpreting symbols.”

 

A lot of people think that Steve Rogers would blush at a joke about reading your future in jizz stains. What he actually did was quirk an eyebrow, spin them around, and yank Sam’s underwear down his legs as he dropped gracefully to his knees. His bare ass pressed into the cold window and Sam couldn’t help thinking that he was maybe a little more exposed than Steve had been.

 

He stopped thinking at all when Steve sucked him down completely, nose pressed into his groin, fingers reaching up and splaying across his chest and waist.

 

He tangled his fingers in Steve’s hair and looked down, breathing hard. Not a bad morning, all things considered.

 

Until he finished only to find Steve snorting unattractively and trying not to laugh, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

 

“This is not the ideal time to be doing that,” Sam said incredulously. His dick was literally still inches from Steve’s flushed face, for crying out loud. This was not proper bedroom etiquette. Or, well, living room window sex, if you were going to split hairs over it.

 

“No, I know, I’m sorry, it’s just … “ He gulped down some more air and bit his lip to stifle it. “A flock of birds flew by the window just now.  _Falcon_.”

 

Sam stared for a moment. “My orgasm does not bring all the birds to the yard, Steve,” Sam said haughtily, possibly heating just a bit. Just the slightest bit. You couldn’t even tell.


End file.
